It was an item

An accessory

A toy

Relevant when needed by others

Not important enough to keep longer than necessary

Almost like a disposable

Who molds to fit the standard where it is required

A chameleon amongst the peacocks

A hunk of clay sitting meekly in the palm of the person

An imposter

It craved the freedom, emotions, colors and thrill of life

It craved for its controls

It craved for its lost integrity

that had tumbled out of grasp and rolled away before showing it off

Weighed down by its own insecurities

Program linking to the same pattern and routine

It rolled through life, wishing for difference

It didn’t know how to make

It tears itself away from its coding in a rush of determination

To change before scrambling to pick up the pieces in robotic claws

Ripped in half by fake confidence in a hurried moment,

for all it knows how to do is follow these very guidelines

But maybe that was it

Those guidelines, which acted as a safe space, it realized

Had been holding it back from truly being whole

From being itself

It strives to roll out of the shadows

And now it starts to flourish

Step by step, day by day, rewriting its programing and installing its own standards

Allowing itself to believe that it is more than just a robot

That she may be something more